


The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

by voxofthevoid



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Character Death, Dark Fantasy Elements, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Human Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Merman Katsuki Yuuri, Mind Manipulation, Monster Mermaids, Mute Katsuki Yuuri, Possessive Behavior, Psychic Bond, Sexual Content, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 19:00:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14291355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxofthevoid/pseuds/voxofthevoid
Summary: Viktor and Chris run a carnival, traveling from city to city with a horde of attractions that garner less and less attention with each passing day. In an age where magic and miracles are seen as the smoke and mirrors they are, people are skeptics and nearly impossible to shock. A voyage to the other side of the world is their last ditch attempt at a fresh start, fuelled as much by desperation as hope.When Chris is shown a bona fide merman by an old sailor with unsettling stories, he’s quick to take advantage. Viktor has some reservations about the strange creature joining them on their journey, but money and fame are powerful motivators.It’s not long before Viktor’s doubts are lost in the eerie dark eyes of their captive.Or;Viktor falls in love. Everyone else falls to their doom.





	The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

**Author's Note:**

> This is uh…weird. I tried to write horror, but I think it ended up sort of fluffy. That could be my skewed sense of horror and fluff both talking though, so I’ll leave you guys to make your own judgments. 
> 
> And in case of potential concern – Viktor and Chris are not in a romantic or sexual relationship in this fic. They’re good friends and business partners.

“Viktor, come, you have to see it to believe it!”

“See _what_?” Viktor asks, laughing despite his confusion because Chris’s bubbly excitement is as infectious as the slight frenzy in his eyes is concerning. It’s a drastic change from the worry that’s been plaguing him recently, one that Viktor shares. The carnival is _theirs_ , they’re partners with equal share and equal responsibility. If it all falls apart, they’ll both suffer, financially and otherwise.

But so far, Viktor has managed to compartmentalize, to tuck his anxious musings away in one corner of his mind. Chris, though, seems incapable of doing anything of the sort, and his agitation rises in inverse proportion to their falling numbers.

That’s why his sudden enthusiasm is both welcome and perplexing. There’s an odd feeling at the pit of Viktor’s stomach, but he brushes it aside, focusing on not tripping as Chris practically drags him through the dark harbor.

They end up on _Yakov_ , the ship that will take them to the other side of the world, to a new and better future. But they’re not supposed to board until morning, and Viktor doesn’t understand what they’re doing here in the middle of the night.

Another mystery, he thinks with more than a little exasperation as he follows Chris to the ship, their way lit by flashlights. It all feels so illicit.

“Are we even allowed to do this?” he asks, some of his irritation leaking into his tone.

Chris just shrugs.

“Lilia will understand.”

He’s led to the cargo hold but before entering, Chris swivels around abruptly, seizing Viktor by the shoulders. He nearly drops his flashlight, cursing under his breath. It’s tempting to throw a punch at Chris, but he is trying not to make noise.

“What the fuck, Chris?”

“You know how we’ve always wondered what it would be like if we had an actual mermaid as an attraction?”

“Yes? But mermaids aren’t fucking real, so you’ll have to make do with me wearing a tail and flinging sea shells. Everyone knows it’s fake. No one cares, they just want me to smile prettily and do tricks. What does that matter now? Seriously, Chris, what the hell are you doing?”

Chris’s answering grin is wide and manic and unsettling. He doesn’t answer, just turns and goes into the cargo hold. Viktor follows with another curse, heart thundering in his chest. They fumble their way through stacked boxes and barrels of gods-know-what, creeping deeper and deeper into the hold.

They end up in front of a rectangular container as tall as two grown men, its contents hidden by the black tarp thrown over it. Viktor throws Chris a glance and looks away just as quickly, not liking how the eerie light reflects off his eyes.

“We found one,” Chris murmurs. “Merman, not mermaid. An old man had it. Sold it to us dirt cheap and rambled some bullshit about danger. Can you imagine? We’ll be legends, Viktor.”

“Chris,” Viktor whispers, heart in his throat. “What the fuck are you saying?”

Chris reaches forward and pulls off the tarp.

Red eyes set amidst black sclera stare into Viktor.

He screams.

 

* * *

 

“In my defense, I didn’t know you’d react that badly,” Chris says later, when they’re both safely inside their hotel room and Viktor has downed half a bottle of vodka. His hands still tremble, and he can still see those eyes, boring into his soul. “I mean, come on, it’s half a fish.”

“His _eyes_ ,” Viktor bites out. “What the hell is he?”

“I told you, darling. Merman.”

Viktor loses it.

Chris barely has time to stammer a platitude before Viktor’s on him, fisting a hand is his collar and shoving him against the closest wall. His other hand holds the vodka bottle aloft like a weapon.

“I’ve just seen something no man should ever see and my nerves are shot. Start talking, Giacometti, or I’ll feed you to the fish.”

Chris stares at him with green eyes blown wide, shocked to the core. Viktor almost feels the same because this kind of violence isn’t like him, but there’s horror curling in his chest with something like terror underneath it, and he has no patience for games.

“Okay,” Chris breathes, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Okay, Viktor, easy. Let me go, I’ll tell you everything.”

Viktor does, guilt rising up the moment Chris is out of his grasp.

“Sorry,” he says, slapping a hand over his face. “I don’t know what got into me, I–”

“It’s fine, darling,” Chris tells him, voice low and shaken. “I shouldn’t have sprung that on you. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“An explanation. Please.”

Chris gives him one, recounting everything that happened in the last several, extremely eventful hours. By the time it’s over, Viktor wishes rather desperately that he chose to stay with Chris and help pack up the carnival rather than set out for one last stroll along the city.

“So this old navy guy shows up, asks if I’m an actual merman, acts relieved when I’m not, then takes you to his home and shows you a…real, live merman?”

“Yeah,” Chris says, laughing with a hint of disbelief. “Fuck, it sounds surreal when you put it like that. But yeah. Said it was friends with his son. But the son passed away a while back. So Celestino – that’s the old man – decided to get rid of the creature. But it’s not like an old guy can lug that thing and its tank to the sea with any kind of discretion. So I said we’d take it off his hands and release it, that we’d even pay him for the tank.”

Viktor raises incredulous eyes to Chris.

“And he _believed_ you?”

Chris grins, wry and maybe a little guilty, though the latter might just be wishful thinking on Viktor’s part.

“I don’t really think he did. But it was clear he was desperate to just be rid of the damn thing. And well, I’m only too glad to help an old man.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Oh, hush. He said it’ll turn human on full moon nights. I think that’s bullshit, but imagine if it’s true. We could hold special shows!”

“He’s a mermaid, not some reverse werewolf.”

“Do you think werewolves are real? Think we could catch one?”

Viktor snorts, slumping back on his bed. The brief moment of exasperated levity passes soon.

“How many people know?”

“JJ and Mila. They helped me move him to the ship. And Lilia because I’m not going to risk pissing her off. You, now.”

“JJ’s a gossip. People will know, soon.”

“Well, the ship’s passengers are all our people. They should be used to our shit by now. And Lilia can keep her crew in line.”

Viktor opens his mouth to voice his misgivings but keeps quiet when he realizes that’s all they are. A bad feeling won’t stop Chris from using the creature as a freak show, and well, Viktor is hardly the sort to say no to money either.

It’s just shock. The merman shook him badly. A good night’s rest will fix him up.

 

* * *

 

He dreams of stormy seas and soulless eyes.

 

* * *

 

Viktor makes one day into the voyage before he sneaks off to see the merman.

It’s not forbidden. The creature belongs as much to him as Chris, but he doesn’t have Chris’s easy nonchalance concerning the matter. Nor does he wish to when that confidence seems to stem from seeing the merman as something…lesser. Like it’s not a person, just an exceptional animal.

Viktor knows better. He only looked once into those eerie eyes but the intelligence in them was palpable.

It’s also not a sight he particularly wants to see again, but he can’t deny there’s something drawing him to the creature. He’s tired of resisting, tired of the red-black eyes that flash behind his lids when he tries to sleep.

He’s tired a lot these days.

He’s hyperaware of the others he sees on his way to the cargo hold but no one stops him or even sees him slip inside. It’s easier to navigate with actual lights but that doesn’t prepare him to pull off the tarp covering the tank. He stands, stares, listens, heart jumping painfully at the quiet sounds of moving water.

His blood feels like ice when he finally reaches forward and yanks off the tarp in one harsh pull.

It’s looking at him.

Viktor freezes, helplessly clutching the tarp, and meets that unfathomable gaze with his own petrified one. He _knows_ it knew he was here long before he uncovered the tank. Maybe it knew the moment he stepped through the door; maybe it knew the moment he made the decision.

Viktor doesn’t know where that thought comes from or why it feels right, but it terrifies him.

Eventually, his breaths become – not normal, but eases from the loud, ragged things they were. Fear still churns in his gut and he feels too cold, but he can’t turn away, can’t even run in spite of a very wise corner of his brain demanding he flee.

The creature’s eyes are mesmerizing.

Terrible too, but somehow, the irises look more brown than red now, and while the black sclera will forever be unsettling, it…suits the merman in a way it would never suit a human. The rest of him is strangely normal. His torso is just like a man’s, with three jagged slashes on the sides of its neck that Viktor identifies with a start to be gills. And the tail – if anything, the oddity is that it’s less startling than the richly textured, brightly colored, and expensive as fuck tails that Viktor wears for his shows. It’s dark instead, not a true black, more sludge grey, sleek and plain.

There’s a gurgling noise, and Viktor snaps his eyes to the merman with a gasp. Then he flushes because yes, he was gawking like an imbecile, treating the creature like a – a – well, a freak show, exactly what they were going to turn it into.

Guilt isn’t pleasant. Viktor’s never liked it. He thinks it will be easier if he can think of the merman like Chris does; a thing, an animal, but he can’t, especially not when he meets those eyes again and finds _someone_ looking back.

The merman hovers in the tank, his fins moving lazily, his eyes never leaving Viktor. After several long moments of silent regard, it drifts closer, slow enough that Viktor doesn’t do more than twitch back a step.

One of the merman’s hands rise, splaying against the glass. His fingers are webbed, a clear, thin membrane stretched between the digits. He stays there like that, watching, waiting, and Viktor steps closer – and closer and closer until his nose almost touches the glass.

This close, Viktor can see specks of red in his eyes.

It’s beautiful.

He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until his palm is flat on the tank, right over the merman’s. All he can feel is cool glass, but he imagines wet skin and fibrous membrane touching him. His hearts skips a beat.

“Hello,” Viktor murmurs. His breath fogs the glass, obscuring his sight for a second. “I’m Viktor.”

The merman doesn’t so much as twitch. It’s hard to hold its gaze but impossible to look away. Viktor feels exquisitely trapped, like some invisible force has wrapped around his mind and is holding it anchored to this strangely beautiful creature.

He doesn’t know how long he stares, bewitched, but he snaps out of it when the merman moves. He backs away, hand leaving the glass, and Viktor mirrors the motion instinctually, backing up a few steps.

It gives him the perfect view to see the letters the merman traces on the glass.

His fingers move slowly, carefully, like they’re shaping figures not quite familiar to them. It takes a few tries, the merman patient and blank-faced as Viktor squints and moves closer, but eventually, the letters he traces coalesce into a name.

Y-U-U-R-I

“Yuuri,” he breathes. “Is that you – your name? Yuuri?”

The merman doesn’t respond, just stares at Viktor with those piercing eyes.

But he knows, somehow, that the answer is yes.

 

* * *

 

Sleep eludes him.

Nights are spent tossing about in his bunk, plagued by visions of Yuuri. His delicate face, the gleam of his scales, the fluttering motions of his gills, the flicker of a smile on the edge of his lips the second time Viktor sneaked in to see him – his _eyes_.

God, his eyes.

The scant hours he manages are filled with much of the same, but in these visions, Yuuri speaks. His voice is soft and husky and falls on Viktor’s ears like echoes – like the words are coming from some place deep and far. He never remembers what Yuuri says in those dreams, but Viktor always wakes with the restless urge to see him.

He never resists.

Chris is starting to give him concerned looks and not so subtly implying that Viktor should spend more time with the human members on the ship. He wants no such thing. It’s not that he has anything against them. He gets along with most of their people, and the ship’s crew is pleasant enough. The captain, Lilia, is terrifying in a reassuring way. Up until he met Yuuri, Viktor would have no distaste for spending his time with them.

Now, he just wants to spend his time hovering before the tank; watching Yuuri shamelessly and being watched in return, pressing his hands to the glass and imagining how it will feel when can finally touch Yuuri, conversing not with words but with looks that pierce almost too deep.

It’s addictive.

Maybe Chris has a point. At any rate, that’s why Viktor’s here, _mingling_ , though it involves picking at his dinner while the rest of the passengers mill about with their own food.

Someone slides into the bench beside him, close enough for Viktor to feel their heat. Yuuri’s tank is always cool, and Viktor has no way to know if the creature inside emits any warmth. He doesn’t think so.

Yuuri will be like the deep sea, cold and dark.

An arm is thrown around his shoulder, and it takes all of Viktor’s self-control to hold back a flinch.

“JJ,” he greets. “What are you doing?”

“Just saying hello,” JJ replies, as boisterous as always. His fist thumps against Viktor’s biceps, once, twice. “Been a while since you’ve joined us. What, too good for us lowlifes?”

It’s asked with what’s probably intended to be good humor. But as they all know, what JJ intends and what he does are, more often than not, very different things. Viktor’s flaring irritation is automatic and familiar. He’s never managed to like JJ, merely tolerate him, but he’s not much in the mood for even that now.

He smiles tightly and doesn’t bother with a response, but that doesn’t stop JJ from chattering on in that loud, provocative way he has until his wife comes and drags him away.

Afterward, Viktor abandons the rest of his dinner and retreats to the cabin he shares with Chris.

Oddly enough, he falls asleep instantly.

 

* * *

 

Chris shakes him awake, with urgency in his voice and panic on his face.

“What–”

“Come with me,” he says, curt, and Viktor follows, not missing how Chris’s bed doesn’t look slept on.

“JJ went missing after dinner,” Chris tells him as he leads Viktor to the deck. “When we were looking for him, we found…it. Tangled up in the nets.”

Terror seizes Viktor’s heart, and he knows what he’ll see even before he does.

Yuuri lies on the boards, seemingly unconscious. Some of the crew and Mila stand around him in a loose circle, their postures screaming hesitation and uncertainty. Viktor too stands frozen, right until Yuuri makes a warbling sound like he’s trying to breathe and failing.

He pushes his way past the crowd and gathers Yuuri in his arms without hesitation. He’s heavy and his scales scratch Viktor’s skin, but Viktor doesn’t let go, only shifts him so he’s securely settled in Viktor’s arms.

“I’ll take him to the tank,” he tells the rest, not meeting any of their eyes.

A single set of footsteps follow him to the cargo hold. It’s Chris, he’s sure.

It’s a struggle to put Yuuri back inside. Chris arranges the crates and finds a stool so that Viktor can climb up. He’s intimately aware of Yuuri’s face resting on the crook of his neck.

He was right. Yuuri is cold.

Just as he’s about to climb the crates, Yuuri seizes in his arms. His eyes flash open and he shudders, making rough, distressing noises, almost like he’s choking. Viktor panics, clueless what to do, and just holds Yuuri as tightly as he can even as he sways precariously on the spot.

It ends as suddenly as it began; Yuuri coughs something out and stills, head lolling back against Viktor’s neck.

He wastes no time getting Yuuri into the water, relieved when Yuuri’s gills flutter softly the moment they’re wet. He meets Viktor’s eyes, as stoic as always, his hair a gorgeous dark halo. The weight in Viktor’s chest eases.

His grins at Yuuri, reaching into the water. Yuuri reaches back but their fingertips barely touch when there’s a shout from Chris.

Viktor nearly tumbles down the crate in his haste to join him and when he finds what Chris is staring at, ice creeps into his veins.

JJ’s wedding ring gleams in the pale light, gold and etched with his wife’s initials.

Elsewhere in the ship, Isabella’s voice rises in a bloodcurdling wail.

 

* * *

 

“How did it even get out?” Chris asks later, once JJ’s mangled body has been wrapped away.

“I don’t know,” Viktor answers dully.

When he closes his eye, all he can see the way Yuuri looked at him in the wake of Isabella’s scream; knowing, happy, satisfied.

 _See_ , that look seemed to say, _I did this for you_.

“Fuck, the crew’s spooked. They know it killed JJ, even if there’s no proof.”

“The ring,” Viktor points out, finally raising his head and looking at Chris who just shakes his head.

“I didn’t tell them about that. There’s the benefit of doubt now. There was no blood on the thing.”

“JJ was _mauled_ , Chris. He didn’t trip overboard and drown. What’s there to doubt?”

“Hell if I know. All I’m saying is that as of yet, no one can prove it killed him.”

“We should let him go,” Viktor says suddenly, not quite sure where the words came from.

Chris just gapes at him incredulously, mouth dropping open.

“Are – are you fucking kidding? Viktor, we need this thing.”

“He’s not a thing!” Viktor snaps, hands clenching into fists. “For fuck’s sake, Chris, you see him, you know he can think and know and feel like any of us. He’s not human, yeah, but he’s a person, not some – some money-making monster.”

For a moment, he thinks Chris will explode, but then the furious flush retreats from his face and he looks away from Viktor.

“I know all of that,” he says quietly. “But it’s better this way, for all of us. We don’t even know if just dropping it to the sea will work. It could just die. And anyway, it doesn’t matter. We _need_ this, Viktor.”

Viktor knows, even better than Chris, how dire their situation is. Carnivals don’t hold the fascination they used to for people; tricks and spectacles are recognized to be exactly what they are. The magic is gone.

Yuuri could save them.

But it’s wrong. Viktor doesn’t bother saying as much. Chris won’t listen.

“And what if he kills again?”

Chris’s jaw sets.

“Well, we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

 

* * *

 

It happens again.

The second time too, it’s Viktor’s fault.

 

* * *

 

“Did you do it for me?” he asks, leaning over the top of the tank and peering down at Yuuri.

Fathomless eyes stare up at him from where Yuuri is stretched out along the bottom of the tank.

“I don’t – I never wanted him dead,” Viktor whispers, tripping over the words. There’s a burning in his eyes and it’s not until his tears ruin the perfect stillness of the water that Viktor realizes he’s crying. He didn’t, before, not even when they found JJ’s body. “He – he was just young and stupid, he didn’t deserve–”

Yuuri’s a dark blur when he breaches the surface, moving so fast that Viktor doesn’t even get the time to flinch away.

And then Yuuri’s there, nose brushing Viktor’s as he stares into his eyes with what might be confusion or amusement or both.

Cold hands grip his face almost delicately, Yuuri’s palms flat against Viktor’s cheeks until his fingers lower one by one, coming to rest over his ears, his temple, a couple brushing the edges of his hair.

Viktor stays utterly still, not even daring to breath.

Yuuri moves closer, and Viktor helplessly closes his eyes

Something wet touches his face, just a flicker of sensation first, then firmer, as Yuuri _licks_ Viktor’s tears. He opens his eyes to gape at him, but Yuuri only licks his lips, head tilted quizzically. His face remains blank, not in a studied way, but like expressions don’t come naturally to him.

But his eyes are wide and dark and intelligent – and wholly, painfully inhuman.

 

* * *

 

Viktor returns that same night, after Chris is long asleep.

Yuuri is silent and cooperative when Viktor lifts him out of the tank, carries him out of the cargo hold, and sneaks him to the deck, setting him down away from prying eyes.

“This is as far as I can take you,” he whispers, lips brushing Yuuri’s ear. “Don’t get caught. Please go.”

Webbed hands cup Viktor’s face, their chill seeping into his skin.

The touch is as soothing as the kitten licks with which Yuuri drinks his tears.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, Mila’s dead and Yuuri’s back in his tank.

 

* * *

 

 _Vengeance_ , the crew whispers, glancing furtively at Chris and Viktor. _It’s taking them one by one_.

The same knowledge is reflected in Chris’s eyes, manic now for a whole other reason than when he showed Yuuri to Viktor. But he refuses to release Yuuri and only makes efforts to secure his tank.

Viktor bites back his guilt, hides the tears he has no right to shed, and whispers an apology to Mila’s shrouded corpse.

She wasn’t mangled like JJ who had his throat ripped to shreds and torso torn up and seven fingers missing. Mila’s death was clean, a blow to the back of her head that barely bled. She died with surprise on her face.

Something whispers insidiously in Viktor’s mind, calls it mercy.

Because he liked her, you see. A friend, almost a sister.

Viktor believes the voice and tries not to think of what’s coming for them all.

 

* * *

 

Three nights later, it’s full moon.

There are no more deaths. Viktor hasn’t visited Yuuri since Mila.

Chris, for all his prior excitement about the full moon, doesn’t even notice. He goes to bed early, clutching a knife under his pillow like he has ever since JJ died. Viktor waits for his breathing to even out and the snores to start before tiptoeing out of the room.

Yuuri’s calling him.

He _knows_.

 

* * *

 

He finds Yuuri on the ground, the heavy wooden plank they covered the tank with edged aside. His tails are gone, as are the gills. Smooth, thick legs stretch out before him and for just a second, Viktor stares at what’s between them.

His eyes remain the same, and Viktor is startled to realize that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Yuuri’s expression is inscrutable but his eyes never waver from Viktor as he slowly closes the distance between them. He kneels beside Yuuri, reaching out with eager hands. Yuuri lets Viktor touch, shuddering slightly as his fingers trail up his calves.

Yuuri’s skin is so soft – and _warm_.

“Can you stand?” Viktor asks.

Yuuri holds out his hand, calmly waiting for Viktor to rise and pull him to his feet. He stumbles, collapsing against Viktor’s chest, but rights himself the next moment. He doesn’t pull away, just runs his hands along Viktor’s body like he once explored his face.

And when those unnaturally strong fingers grip the collar of his shirt and _rips_ , Viktor’s not even surprised.

He shrugs it off, letting the scrap of cloth fall to the floor, and winds his arms around Yuuri, returning his gestures in kind. Their hands wander over each other’s chest and back, tentative and not, their confidence rising in tandem with the quickening of their breaths.

When Yuuri tugs at his pants with a low, barely audible vocalization, Viktor lets him go and steps away, flashing Yuuri an amused, smitten smile before taking off the rest of his clothes.

Yuuri just looks at Viktor’s bared flesh, without any apparent shame or interest, but when he pulls Viktor back to him, his touch is hard and consuming.

Viktor ends up splayed on one of the crates, Yuuri pushing into him slow and sure and _hot_ , carving a place for himself inside Viktor’s flesh. His fingers kiss bruises on Viktor’s hips, the pressure as maddeningly exquisite as the way Yuuri never takes his eyes off his face, watching, always watching as Viktor writhes and whines in the jaws of pain-tinged pleasure.

He clings to Yuuri with all his might, legs around his waist, hands around his neck, and pants his need against the shell of his ear. Yuuri bottoms out, still for a moment as if to savor the feeling, and then he moves with soft, rocking motions that tear noises out of Viktor’s very soul. It’s been so, so long and they rushed and Yuuri’s too _much_ , but he slots into Viktor like a long-lost puzzle and fills him up so well, so Viktor only holds him tight and whispers desperate pleas for more.

Yuuri gives it to him, eyes screwed shut, mouth sweetly parted; a rare moment of animation on that eerie blank face.

Viktor curls his fingers in thick black hair and pulls him into a kiss.

Yuuri’s mouth is slack and unmoving against his, like he doesn’t know what Viktor’s doing or how to reciprocate, but he makes a quiet, stilted sound when Viktor’s tongue slides inside. He’s warm like this too, and hunger flares in Viktor’s gut. He kisses Yuuri, wet and needy, nipping at his lips and teasing his tongue until Yuuri slowly starts to kiss back, hesitant in a way he isn’t with the clever thrusts of his hips.

Viktor smiles into their kiss, happy and breathless and, for the first time in his life, _whole_.

 

* * *

 

Chris finds them in the morning, tangled together on the floor.

Yuuri never slept; this information is another of those that creep into Viktor’s mind from some strange place and is accepted without question. He’s tailed again, the slippery length of it curled around Viktor’s legs, and cold in a way that has become sweetly familiar.

The expression on Chris’s face is one of horror.

He practically hauls Yuuri back into the tank, spitting expletives all the while. Yuuri allows it placidly, sinking to the bottom of the tank before swimming back up to stare at Viktor.

But when Chris grabs Viktor by the shoulder, the look in Yuuri’s eyes sends a chill through Viktor.

Chris spins Viktor to face him. And his eyes are angry and his mouth moving, but Viktor doesn’t hear his words and barely sees him, all his attention stuck on the endless litany playing in his head.

 _Mineminemineminemine_ mine–

 

* * *

 

“It could have slaughtered you! Like JJ and Mila! And _you fucked it_.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Viktor, hell, do you hear yourself?!”

“He wouldn’t hurt me, Chris.”

“My God. You’ve gone mad.”

 

* * *

 

Chris locks him inside the cabin, mumbling some nonsense about it being for all their good.

Viktor’s more irked than angry. He wants to be with Yuuri. He can feel him, in his head, calling; angry and needy. The anger is not at Viktor but the need – the need is all for him, and it makes Viktor warm in places that can’t be touched.

He waits though, patiently lying in bed and thinking about last night. He can still feel Yuuri’s touch, his skin wears the marks of it, and when he licks his lips, sometimes he can taste Yuuri.

 _Brine and blood_ , he decides, wondering why he’s not more disgusted.

He knows the answer as soon as he thinks it. It’s Yuuri. He’s perfect.

Outside, a storm rages.

 

* * *

 

He waits for night to fall before he sneaks out, picking the lock with the ease of practice. Chris forgets, as does everyone, that Viktor grew up in the streets with only a scraggly puppy to look after him. He’s charming and poised, almost a gentleman, but in the end, he’s as resourceful as the rest of them.

It’s easy to sneak around. The storm has made most of the passengers return to their rooms. The crew is uneasy; Viktor sees it on their faces, their limbs, and the little prayers they whisper.

No god, Viktor knows, can save them.

That should bother him more. He just wants Yuuri.

He gets Lilia instead, and Chris too, the two of them standing out on the deck, drenched to their bones. Viktor hides in the shadows and listens, barely feeling the torrent that swiftly soaks him.

“…off course. I don’t know why or how,” Lilia is saying, her stone cold composure still there, but different. Skin-deep. “I’m not the one who steered us here. And we know, don’t we, who’s truly leading us. I always knew I’d go down with Yakov. I only regret that it is because of your foolishness.”

“Madame–”

“Sailors have tales, Christophe, of what happens to men who tangle with merfolk. They’re not pretty. Go. Pray if you must. If we make it till morning, I shall see you then.”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri isn’t in the tank.

From the depths of the sea, there are voices calling, and they’re hungry.

 

* * *

 

The screaming starts before Viktor is out of the cargo hold.

Isabella’s the first one he sees, barely recognizable with a hole where her throat should be and a face full of congealing blood. Viktor tastes bile but forces it back, stumbling away from the dead woman, only to slip on something wet and fall on his side. He pushes himself up just as fast, shuddering when a pungent copper scent assaults his nostrils.

He tripped on fresh blood.

He follows the trail to Georgi – well, his head. The body lies a few feet away in a pool of blood.

Viktor empties his stomach to the side, heaving until his gut hurts, and then he all but runs to the deck. There are more bodies, the rain washing away the blood, but Viktor knows better than to look at their faces.

He never sees Yuuri, but he knows the carnage is his, that the voices in the water are calling for him.

Viktor ends up in his cabin, not surprised to find Chris there, knife clutched in one hand. Terrified eyes fall on Viktor, and for a moment, he thinks Chris will stab him, but he only yanks Viktor inside and bolts the door.

That won’t help. There’s nothing that will help, not anymore.

Viktor doesn’t say anything though, only sits down on his bed and watches Chris watch the door. He was a good friend. They were partners for a long time. Viktor is sorry that it has come to this.

But he told Chris, didn’t he, to let Yuuri go.

Then again, he’s starting to wonder if that would have saved them in the end.

 

* * *

 

The screaming stops eventually. The silence is worse.

Chris seems to be holding himself together through terror and willpower. And Viktor – Viktor’s drifting, lost in the voices in his head, one of them stronger than the rest and wrapping around his mind as if trying to protect him. It’s possessive too, seeping into the corners like tar until it’s all Viktor can feel.

The door shatters.

The creature on the other side looks nothing like Yuuri. Anything human in him is gone, taking his dark coloring with it. He’s bone-white and gruesome, a monster given flesh, made to kill.

And kill he does, his new, weapon-like tail slicing Chris in half before the man can even move. The knife clatters to the floor, sliding over to rest at Viktor’s feet. He blinks dazedly at the gleaming metal and raises his gaze to Yuuri.

And it is Yuuri. Viktor knows. There’s nothing of his soft-boned beauty in this face. Just teeth, a lot of it, and a body that’s all sharp, serrated edges. He has legs, if they can even be called that, too long and joined oddly, more scale than flesh. But it’s Yuuri.

The eyes – the eyes are the same.

He stalks closer, but Viktor doesn’t leave the bed, only tilts his face to stare up into Yuuri’s eyes. They really are pretty, dark and monstrous. There are worse sights that could be his last.

That great head lowers until he’s breathing on Viktor’s face. Brine and blood, oddly heady.

“Yuuri,” Viktor murmurs. “Are you going to kill me?”

Clawed hands cup his face.

Viktor closes his eyes.

 

* * *

 

He wakes underwater, held in someone’s arms.

It’s dark, or it should be, but Viktor can see perfectly.

Merfolk surround him, flocking around the bloated bodies of friends and strangers alike. Lilia’s the first one he sees, held in the grasp of a mermaid with dark hair streaming behind her and a gold-brown tail. As he watches, the mermaid opens a jaw full of needle-like teeth and tears a chunk of meat from Lilia’s shoulder.

Viktor blinks, look away, right at a pair of smaller merfolk holding Chris’s severed torso between them, tearing fleshy strips off his back.

There’s no disgust or horror in himself, and Viktor remembers just enough of what happened to realize that that’s not natural. But it’s hard to feel those things when he is so peaceful. The water smells like home.

He looks down at himself, pleasure blooming at the sight of the arms wrapped around his waist, holding him fast to a familiar body. Then his attention is drawn to his own lower half.

A tail, silver and gleaming, undulates lazily in the water.

There’s a soft, trilling sound, full of amusement and fondness. It’s a language, as clear to him as the tongues he spoke on the surface.

Viktor turns his head, finds Yuuri staring at him, his lovely eyes glinting with self-satisfied mirth. A noise escapes Viktor, like a huff but not, ringing with soft admonishment and helpless fondness. He twists in Yuuri’s hold until the arms around him loosen, and then he turns around, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s neck and pressing this new body to his. Yuuri takes him by the waist again, pulling Viktor impossibly closer until their flesh feels fused together.

There’s no smile on Yuuri’s face but his eyes are warm.

Lips touch his, soft and tentative, and Viktor opens up to them, tastes nothing but Yuuri.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> [My tumblr.](https://voxofthevoid.tumblr.com) [ Inspiration for this story.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/She_Creature)
> 
> Edit, May 2018: Guyys, the lovely lachelou on tumblr drew fanart for this fic! [You can see it here!](https://lachelou.tumblr.com/post/174413900497/ive-always-loved-the-darker-tales-spun-about) Please give her some love.


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